


Effleure

by bananadad



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, I Blame Tumblr, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, One Shot, Short One Shot, Why Did I Write This?, wow french title #edgy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 00:27:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9573833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bananadad/pseuds/bananadad
Summary: After his plans for a business venture fail miserably, Dean Winchester winds up stuck leading a painfully average lifestyle in Lower Manhattan, just barely scraping by. But one day, out of the blue, his life ends up flipped on its head after meeting a charming, captivating man who Dean is inexplicably drawn to.





	

The rain poured down from the heavens as Dean navigated his way down the winding highway in the middle of nowhere, his vision growing hazy as the winds pounded up against his windshield.

Ba Boom Ba Boom

Dean could feel his heart racing faster and faster as the storm worsened, sensing trouble in the air. He looked down at the dashboard, fiddling with the volume dial on the radio in attempts to take his mind off the conditions outside.

Ba Boom Ba Boom

He could hear screams desperately pleading for help ringing in his ears, but he couldn’t identify their source.

Ba Boom Ba

A blinding light shot directly in to Dean’s line of vision, then everything went black.

 

Dean sprung up in bed with a jolt, his breathing heavy as beads of sweat rolled down his chest, sticking to his plain white t-shirt. That was the third time he had that dream this week alone, and it could never escape his thoughts. Every time it had become more and more vivid, and frankly, it was scaring the living shit out of him. 

As he collected himself, Dean gained the strength to prepare for the day ahead. He swung his feet down off the bed to meet the cold, hardwood floors, the temperature difference sending a shiver through his aching body. God, Dean thought, what’s the damn point of sleeping anyways?

After getting dressed and making a pot of coffee, Dean gathered up his dirty clothes and towels scattered about in his small apartment, as he was long overdue for a trip to the laundromat. He absolutely loved life in Lower Manhattan, but not having his own washing machine was a definite downfall.

With his wicker laundry basket in his arms, Dean made his way down to the parking garage of the apartment complex in the old, repellent elevator. The tiny box shuddered the entire duration of the ride as it slowly declined from the sixth floor all the way to the ground level, making Dean incredible uneasy. As soon as the elevator came to a jolting stop and the doors slowly slid open, Dean bolted out of the confining hell and raced to his sleek, black Impala parked on the opposite wall of the garage.

There she was. His old ’67 Chevy, his pride and joy, his baby. Dean must have stitched up and repaired his black beauty at least a million times over, he loved that damn car with all his heart, and he seemed to gleam with excitement every time he laid eyes on her.

Dean drove down the bustling streets towards the laundromat with all the windows rolled down, allowing the sound of the early morning traffic to fill the silence in his car, the cool wind biting at him as he sped up as every red light turned green. It was days like this that made him fall back in love with the city, the wind combing through his hair, the flocks of taxies passing by at nearly every intersection.

The car came to a slow halt as Dean pulled up to the curve where the laundromat sat, the purr of the engine cutting out as he turned the key. Passing cars raced by, sending a shudder through both him and the vehicle as Dean reached over to the passenger seat for the laundry basket. He sucked in a deep breath as he opened the car door and picked himself up to get out. He just hoped he’d be the only customer they had, he really wasn’t in the mood to make small talk.

The bells taped to the doorframe jingled as Dean pushed the door to the laundromat open with his basket. He let out sigh of relief as he surveyed isle of washing machines up against the wall. There was only one other person in the building, a man, about his age, was sitting on the floor up against the wall, a book bound with red leather in hand. Why he didn’t just sit in a chair, he had no idea. 

Dean made his way over to the washing machine closest to the entrance from which he came, shoving quarters into the coin slot as he began shoveling his dirty clothes into the machine. Dean could feel the man against the wall staring at him, but he ignored it as he placed the empty wicker basket on the scruffy, off-white tiled floor. He reached over to the soap dispenser, punching the button for lavender soap and started the load. 

Dean went to go in sit in a chair facing the machines when he made eye contact with the man sitting on the floor. When he met his gaze, Dean felt drawn into the man’s icy blue eyes. They were sharp, yet full of emotion, his fuzzy, navy sweater underneath his overcoat complimenting their striking color. As he continued to study the man’s face, Dean was drawn to the way the his wavy, jet black hair fell on his face in just a way that complimented his rounded jawline. Dean felt inexplicably drawn to the man on the floor as he took a seat across from the row of washing machines.

The man felt almost familiar to Dean as he began to speak, his voice deep and husky.

“Come here often?” the man asked in a low, monotone voice.

Dean snickered and turned to face the man, “What kind of question is that?” Dean responded, a tinge of sarcasm in his answer.

“Just... trying to make conversation. This isn’t exactly how I like to spend my Saturday mornings” The man looked down at his feet, his lips turning upward into a smile as he brought his head back up to look at Dean. “The name’s Castiel, by the way”

Dean smiled. Castiel he thought, repeating the name over and over again in his head. He just couldn’t understand why he felt so drawn to the man. Normally, Dean would just shake off any attempts of small talk by a stranger, but this just felt so… different. 

“Dean” he replied, a grin beginning to inch across his lips.

“Dean” Castiel repeated with a smile, his voice now softer as his eyes trailed up to the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. “You know what, Dean,” Castiel began again, sliding the leather book that was previously on his lap into his coat pocket, “you seem different from everyone else I’ve come across, you’re just so…” he paused, searching for his words “…captivating”.

“Is that so?” Dean asked in response, refusing to break eye contact with him. Dean really didn’t know how to interpret that statement, but he oddly had similar feelings for this man for whom he barely knew. Sure, the entire situation would’ve appeared extremely abnormal uncomfortable to any passerby, but Dean almost had a sense of indescribable security within the short time frame where he was around this Castiel. He felt mesmerized around him, almost as if there were some cosmic force drawing the two together.

A dryer on the wall next to Castiel buzzed as he slowly picked himself up off the floor to attend to his laundry, a plastic basket in hand. Dean still couldn’t bring himself to peel his eyes away from him, almost as if he were in a trance. He wanted Castiel to stay, just a bit longer, even if the two didn’t even speak to each other. Dean just wanted figure out why he felt such a strong magnetism towards the man. Dean studied his movements as he piled an array of pastel dress shirts and black slacks into his basket, closing the dryer door with a loud bang that filled the silent room.

Castiel started for the exit, but soon slowed to drop a white slip of paper into Dean’s empty wicker basket resting on the floor, eyeing him with a smirk painted across his face as he continued toward the door, the bell chiming yet again as he walked out and on to the busy sidewalk.

Dean paused for a moment, but then got up to approached his laundry basket, where the slip of paper Castiel had left him laid. Dean couldn’t help but smile as his eyes scanned the note that had a series of numbers written in smudged black ink. A telephone number. A man he barely even knew had given Dean his number and maybe, just maybe, this mysterious Castiel held a similar attraction towards Dean as well.

**Author's Note:**

> God that was probably horrendous to read I'm so sorry why did I think this was a good idea


End file.
